


Gaywyck

by Cheshire_Hearts, goresque



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alt-Mode Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Cultural Differences, Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, Power Imbalance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 12:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30139464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Hearts/pseuds/Cheshire_Hearts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Every Vorn a virgin sacrifice is sent to the predacon Lord over Kaon. Tarn, spurned by his intended, goes to his doom with a sense of duty. Thus begins his tumultuous relationship with the mysterious leader of the local predacon tribe.
Relationships: Deathsaurus/Tarn (Transformers)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Gaywyck

**Author's Note:**

> goresque: This begins the very long, very smutty, very awkward relationship between these two losers. Thank you so much to Whirl (cheshire_hearts) for being an excellent cowriter and helping to edit this absolute monster (heart) There's about 125 pages of this currently written, so expect some frequent updates for at least a small while.

Tarn at least made the effort not to sulk. He had allowed the priests to beckon him with golden chains and white ceremonial paints with pride. Now that they had left him to his fate at the open maw of the local predacon lord he was crumbling under the weight of his responsibility. Even if that responsibility was just to lay there and allow himself to be devoured. He had been chained to a hook driven into a boulder behind him, leaving him few comfortable ways to sit.

Tarn had hoped with all his might that the sacrificial choosing of Orion Pax would solve all his problems. His Lord and bonded-to-be had been too distracted and preoccupied with the local librarian as of late. Tarn hadn’t questioned his betrothed’s loyalty, had found it insulting to his own unfaltering worship, but...

But now Megatron had made the decree to send Tarn in Orion Pax’s stead, and there was very little to save him from his despair even as he had taken on the role of sacrifice. Part of him hoped, desperate, that since he had proven his loyalty, that he would go into any pneuma-lion’s den for his beloved, that Megatron would come and free him at the final moment.

Now it felt as if it was just another fool’s dream.

Deathsaurus sat hunched over in his root mode on an outcropping that was far too small. He could feel the metal giving under his weight and dug his claws in more. His optics focused on the swarm of mecha not too far away from his spot. It was the usual fuss before the “sacrifice” and Deathsaurus waited patiently with his tail twitching behind him as they left the purple mech chained up. At least he thought the mech was purple, it was kind of hard to tell under all the paint and chains.

The predacon waited, watching the mech squirm in his chains. When the ledge started to give under him for real, he launched himself off of it; the wind felt good against his plating as he flew, keen optics locked on his prey. The mech was bigger than what they usually sacrificed, but Deathsaurus was sure that would just make everything even more fun. Variety was the spice of life, after all. He let out a roar before dropping from the sky and landing in front of the boulder, front legs slamming into the ground on either side of the mech. He lowered his helm and snarled, whole body imposing over the tank mech.

Tarn pulled his arms in front of his helm to shield himself from the beast’s fangs, held aloft by the hook. Even as he waited with bated breath, his vents shaky and his frame curling inward, he realized he wasn’t being torn to pieces too late to regain his composure. The mighty roar had made his plating rattle in a way he never would have admitted to amongst the other warframes in Kaon.

Pride smarting, Tarn peeked between his arms to gaze upon the lording Beast. He was more terrific and imposing than any art or faraway glances could compare to. He was broad and intense with four optics and massive feathered wings that glinted against Hadeen’s shine. There was a stirring of something  _ not-fear _ in Tarn as he lowered his arms and stared in awe at the magnificent creature before him.

Deathsaurus watched the mech instinctively curl inward, trying to ward him off. It was one of the more common reactions besides screaming in terror and fainting on the spot. The look of awe was new though. Deathsaurus couldn’t help but to flutter his wings and puff out his plating a bit more.

“Now, what do we have here?” Deathsaurus asked, dropping his helm to look the mech in the optics. It meant his beak was much closer now.

Tarn tried not to flinch and failed, jerking back against the rock. He pulled his legs up, knees against his chest as he studied the beast with a discerning optic. He had expected immediate carnage, a swift end to his pathetic existence, not... whatever this dance was.

“A sacrifice for you, my Lord,” Tarn whispered, averting his gaze once more. He took notice of the wide golden flares along the predacon’s shoulders and his broad, rippling back cables. Seeing the raw cynew in action had his tank flipping in his chassis. Tarn had to reign himself in, reminding himself he was but a vessel of offering. “If you will have me.”

Deathsaurus smirked to show off his fangs. The mech was very well spoken and the predacon doubted the other even realized the full extent of his offering. His tail lashed behind him in his apprehension. He let his wings shift, fanning open to curl them closer to the rock. They were partially hidden from the world now; not that there was anyone around them, of course. Deathsaurus knew everyone had left shortly after chaining this mech up.

“I see. And why do you think I’d want you?” asked Deathsaurus. He could smell an undercurrent of lust in the other now too seeping out from under his armor. No doubt he didn’t even realize how obvious it was to the predacon.

“I...” Tarn had not been prepared to argue for his own demise. He clenched his jaw behind the Mask, but was unwilling to back down from his own pride. He rattled his vents and sat up straighter, his arms still held above him and chained to the rock.

“I have nothing to offer you that you cannot take, my Lord,” Tarn intoned, daring to look the beast in his optics. He wasn’t entirely sure which pair to focus on. Tarn lowered his knees to open himself up and give the predacon a full view of his frame, whether it was a bad idea or not. “I only hope that I will be enough.”

Deathsaurus let out a rumbling purr. Oh, he liked this mech already. Especially with the way he shifted to show off his entire frame and dared to look him in the optics. No one else had been that brave– or stupid, depending on his mood. He quite enjoyed the sight of him, the feel of him.

"You are right, I could take whatever I please, but I've found it's much more fun and enjoyable for both of us if you offer yourself to me. We'll just have to see if you're enough of a morsel to sate my appetite." Deathsaurus said, tongue flicking out against his beak. If anything, his grin widened. Now he had to decide if he wanted to take the mech here against the rock still chained up or cut him free and take him back to his den to ravage him properly.

Tarn tried to stay his disgust as the beast revealed its tongue and fangs to him, reasserting that he was soon to meet his doom. The words befuddled him most of all. Wasn’t he to be devoured? Why was he expected to offer himself?

“I have a duty,” Tarn said, voice going soft as he thought of Megatron. His spark clenched. Though he would never betray his beloved, he knew that there was nothing to be gained from running back to him. He would not forsake Megatron, or any of the others who relied on his sacrifice. Who knew what would happen if the beasts did not receive their spoils? “I give myself to you, Lord over Kaon, in the hopes it will slake your thirst for another vorn.”

Tarn shifted his legs beneath him so he could rest on his knees, thick thighs holding him up so he could lower his clenched fists to his chest, allowing the chain to rest on his treads. He would not shy from this duty– he would not fail.

No one had ever been so formal to him before. Deathsaurus wondered briefly if the mech had rehearsed all of this beforehand. He seemed like the type to do that.

Deathsaurus purred when the mech shifted again. He looked so tempting like that. Deathsaurus wondered if the mech had any idea what he looked like when he kneeled like that. He probably did, considering his words. The beastformer inhaled deeply, letting his ex-vent gust over his sacrifice.

“Well then, I’ll gladly take you up on your gracious offer.” Deathsaurus might be a beast, but he knew how to be polite. It was really the least he could do to thank the other for the respect he was given. He leaned just a touch closer, until they were nearly touching and dropped his voice into a sultry purr. “But before I do, would you prefer here or somewhere a little more... private.”

The beast so close made Tarn gasp. He steadied himself, steeling himself against the very real possibility that he would lose his function here. He offlined his optics, unable to bear witness to his own brutal execution.

“I see no difference in the place you take your due, my Lord,” Tarn rumbled from deep in his engine, drawing on his loyalty to bring him courage. “I only hope I am satisfactory.”

Deathsaurus grinned, purring deep in his chest. “Good. I’m certain you’ll be  _ more _ than satisfactory.”

Deathsaurus leaned back a bit and lifted one paw up. He brushed it over the other’s chest plate, slipping the tips of his talons between the mech’s plating. He dragged his paw down the violet mech’s front, fondling his seams and what little bits of protoform he could reach before brushing a digit over his modesty panel. Deathsaurus drew his paw away, leaning his helm back in close to the other’s frame. He opened his beak and licked a strip up the middle of the mech’s modesty panel as he flicked his gaze up to meet Tarn’s optics.

Horrified realization dawned on Tarn. Not only was he going to die, but he was going to suffer such indignities?

Again Tarn was reminded of his sense of duty, and he pushed his thighs apart to allow the beast access to him. The massive paw that pricked beneath his armor and around his biolights sent lances of fire through his frame not from pain but from raw sensation. There was danger there, in the predacon’s natural weapons, and he wasn’t about to forget it.

With some difficulty, Tarn’s powerful engine gave a rev as his codpiece paneling folded away and revealed his sealed equipment. He had been saving himself, to give as a gift to his beloved. He wished he hadn’t now.

Deathsaurus hadn’t expected the other to open his codpiece quite so quickly, but if anything, it turned his crankshaft harder to see what lay beneath it. His chest rumbled, pleased as he delicately licked around the other’s spike seal a few times. He pulled his tongue back in his beak, lowered himself a bit more, and then flicked it back out coated in his oral lubricant. With another happy purr, Deathsaurus flicked the tip of his tongue against the other’s node before licking a long, slow stripe up the center of his valve, pressing it between his folds to the semi-permeable film over his hole. His taste receptors lit up and Deathsaurus groaned at the sweet taste.

He kept licking, switching between long firm strokes and quick flicks against his anterior node. Slowly, Deathsaurus pressed harder over the valve’s entrance before carefully working his tongue into the other’s channel, purring the entire time. He flicked his optics up to watch his sacrifice’s reaction as he wiggled his tongue further in.

Tarn’s whole frame lurched forward, hips jerking back and away from the predacon. He hadn’t meant to, and his own mortification schooled him back into position to appreciate the strong strokes against his seals. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, even if he felt rather queasy.

Tarn moaned as the predacon’s purring sent vibrations up through his thighs and into his core. His array onlined with the stimulation, the weight of fluids were bearing down on the rubbery seal of his valve opening. Tarn fell back against the rock behind him, thighs quivering with the effort it took to stay upright. Tarn had never felt so debauched and pried open.

Deathsaurus watched with dim optics and slowly pulled his tongue back, paw helping hold the other in place while still stroking over plating. He grinned at the other, not worried at all that he was showing off all of his fangs. Helm cocked to the side and smile growing, he asked, “I think we should move on to the main course, don’t you?”

As much as he loved eating a mech out in his root mode, his beak made it difficult to properly enjoy. Plus, he couldn’t exactly suck this mech’s node or spike in this form. He stroked the other’s side before he stepped back and initiated a transformation sequence.

Tarn was caught completely off guard by the shift in plating– his people had never seen the predacons transform like mecha did. He couldn’t help but gasp, optics going wide and body leaning away from the predacon’s very imposing form. It probably should have seemed obvious— transformation was the cornerstone of their species.

“You’re a mech!” He exclaimed, before realizing exactly how rude it was. He shied away, but not without giving the predacon an optic full. He was still just as broad and all-encompassing as he was in his beast mode.

Tarn’s processor was swimming. He tried to reconcile with the fact he was not about to interface with a beast, after having to swallow that ugly feeling.

Deathsaurus chuckled, rolling his shoulders and getting used to being in this mode again. It was always so strange to shift and end up on two feet. He’d practiced though, wouldn’t look too good if he fell on his face every time he transformed.

“Not quite. This is my alt-mode and less preferred mode, but it makes certain things much easier.” Deathsaurus’ grin grew and he stalked back in, letting his servos stroke the other’s chest plate as he kneeled to be at the same height. He dipped his digits into seams to tweak wires and stroke over protoform, leaning in to nibble and suck at the other’s throat cabling. As his servos slipped lower, teasing around his hips, Deathsaurus worked his mouth up to the other’s audial.

“My designation is Deathsaurus, so you can scream it out later.” He nipped at the side of the mech’s face. He was upset by the mask, kissing was one of the best parts of interfacing in his alt-mode.

“I’m—“ Tarn gasped as he was fondled, his frame arching up into the touch. The fact that Deathsaurus had told him there would be a later gave him pause that maybe he wasn’t going to be devoured. Maybe this would be his fate... a plaything for the lording Beast over Kaon.

“I’m Tarn,” he whispered, unsure if he was going to need to bother with his designation. He could still very well be a snack. Tarn jerked against the chains holding him, moaning abruptly as Deathsaurus chewed on his sensitive neck cables. He was no innocent, despite his valve seals, but he was still sensitive and easily worked up. “I suppose I am to be your berth slave, my Lord?”

Deathsaurus paused, pulling back to look the other in the optics and cock his helm to the side. That one was new. He usually let his sacrifices go somewhere else and told them to never return. He also couldn’t really tell if Tarn was offering or resigned to a fate that he had imagined.

“If that’s what you wish, and if we enjoy each other’s company,” Deathsaurus said, tone serious. He stroked a servo down Tarn’s front in a way he hoped was soothing. It was so much easier in his root mode, but something told him Tarn wouldn’t be calmed by having his root mode wrapped and purring around his frame. Not yet at least.

Tarn realized he was being given a choice. The very concept that he had a say in his own fate when he had worked so hard to hand that control over, had spent so long getting over his powerlessness... it was causing some conflicts with his reasoning matrix.

There was no going back, that was certain. It would be shameful.

“I am here to serve you however you see fit, my Lord.” Tarn pushed into the touch along his chest, showing Deathsaurus he was willing. “If that means I will be your... companion, then I will serve you faithfully.”

One master had already given him away, all he could hope was that Deathsaurus wouldn’t do the same.

Deathsaurus rumbled a purr when Tarn pushed his chest into his servo. He grinned at the other’s statement, leaning back in to nip at his throat. His servos continued their exploration, one sliding down Tarn’s narrow waist, flirting around the mech’s spike housing before cupping his valve and fondling it. His chest vibrated with a pleased purr at how wet Tarn was getting. He let his digits play with the valve’s plump lips as he kissed and nipped his way down Tarn’s chest, avoiding his anterior node for the time being.

Deathsaurus shifted back into a more comfortable position and dropped his helm lower. He placed a light kiss to Tarn’s sealed spike housing before licking and suckling at it.

Tarn stifled a sharp cry as his spike housing was teased, energon rushing to his cheeks behind the mask. He’d been too paranoid to mess with his seals, so every sensation was harsh and all-encompassing, and left him supple and arching into Deathsaurus’s lavish tongue. His arms pulled the chains taut, reminding him of his bindings.

“My Lord,” he gasped, whole frame rattling with the force it took him to keep his voice steady. “If you would release my arms I would not run, and I could touch you, if— if it would please you?”

Tarn tried to play the part of the sacrificial waif, to show Deathsaurus he could be a loyal and submissive companion... He only hoped his pride wouldn’t get in the way.

Deathsaurus shivered at the title. He grinned into Tarn’s spike housing, firmly licking a stripe over it to elicit a hearty moan. He watched the mech writhe from the vibrations before leaning back, smirk still firmly in place.

“That would please me greatly, but I think I’ll wait to release you for a little longer.” He sighed, letting his breath gust over Tarn’s damp seal. “You look so tempting stretched out like this.”

Deathsaurus dropped his helm again and sealed his lips, sucking hard over Tarn’s exposed spike housing. He held the mech’s hips down with one servo and pressed a digit against his valve entrance with his other. He really couldn’t wait to take Tarn’s spike into his intake and taste the mech’s pleasure. 

Tarn shied away from Deathsaurus' mouth, the very thought of that tantalizing warmth sending him into a fit of impropriety. His spike flexed behind the seal, pressing and pushing while the predacon weakened it with his tongue.

Before Tarn could warn Deathsaurus, his spike breached the seal. It burned and tingled, but was otherwise painless. His spike rose proud against his abdomen, lined by biolights with braided platelets along the underside. The head flared out with a wide taper, looking more punishing than pleasant- at least to Tarn.

"Forgive me," Tarn gasped out, too overcome by sensation to be embarrassed.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Deathsaurus muttered, all four optics locked on his sacrifice’s pretty spike. He wasted no time leaning forward and taking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. He took more into his mouth until his lips were flush with Tarn’s panels, moaning at the sweet taste. He swallowed, flexing his throat cabling and working his tongue as much as he could.

"My Lord," Tarn cried out. He pulled at his chains, legs quivering where they were folded beneath him. He was helpless. The fact that Deathsaurus was swallowing his spike so eagerly, and easily, was clouding his judgement. It was hot, and wet, and the constricting heat around his hypersensitive spike leaving him to convulse.

Tarn onlined his optics to the sight of Deathsaurus looking up at him. It sent a thrill so strong it had him arching up off the ground using the chains as leverage. He begged, "Have mercy!"

Deathsaurus just purred harder, watching Tarn come undone. He looked good writhing in his chains against the rock. If he could’ve, Deathsaurus would’ve grinned around the spike in his mouth. He started to pull off before sinking back down and swallowing again. Deathsaurus rubbed at Tarn’s valve lips, brushing his knuckles against his opening briefly. He hummed again, letting the rumble build as he swallowed all of Tarn’s spike and pressed one digit into Tarn’s valve.

Tarn tilted his hips forward in a bid for attention, node swollen and glowing beneath his spike. He’d never felt a more tumultuous need coursing through him like energy. Even Megatron hadn’t managed to make him this excited when they had gotten tactile.

Tarn’s valve split open around Deathsaurus exquisitely. Fluids were seeping through the permeable seal, soaking Deathsaurus’s chin and servo. He was all too aware of the razor sharp claws.

Deathsaurus moved his helm up and down Tarn’s spike slowly, wrapping his long glossa around the spike in his mouth as much as he could to stroke it. He worked his digit in deeper, using his talon to carefully search out node clusters. His other servo smoothed over Tarn’s waist before sliding up to slip under the chest plating and, as he plucked at wires, he carefully dipped his talons into gaps to prick at the protoform beneath.

The predacon’s digit prodded Tarn’s seal, careful to not apply too much pressure. He could fit about two knuckles inside the mech with where it was and he wasn’t planning on breaking it before the smaller mech overloaded first. He started pumping his digit in and out slowly, pressing another against the valve opening until he could work both inside.

“My Lord, please—“ Tarn choked out a cry, his loins tightening under his armor as he arched his back with his overload. His hips undulated down onto Deathsaurus’ claws, valve rim clenching tight to the intrusion.

There had been a pitiful amount of transfluid, Tarn’s tanks barely kicking into gear after a sudden onlining of protocols overlapping with the complex emotional program running on his personality matrix. He pushed up into Deathsaurus’ intake, his spike still hard from stimulation.

Deathsaurus swallowed what transfluid there was, moaning at the sweet and slightly tangy taste. He pulled back, letting the spike slip from his mouth with a last caress from his glossa and gentle kiss to the broad head. He grinned up at Tarn, stilling his digits to let the mech get his harsh venting under control a little more.

“That was so good, Tarn,” he purred, leaning up to nuzzle the side of Tarn’s helm gently. “You’re beautiful when you overload, you sound so sweet.”

Deathsaurus pumped his digits into Tarn’s valve shallowly, drawing them out slowly before pushing them back in at the same pace. His thumb brushed over Tarn’s swollen anterior node. He added a third digit on his next push in, careful to move slowly to allow the other time to adjust to the stretch. He leaned in next to Tarn’s audial.

“Are you ready for more yet?”


End file.
